Sharing All Our Lives
by Victoire Lupin
Summary: Victoire Weasley is unhappy indeed. Anyone who has ever had a cold will sympathize. Mildly humorous, TeddyVictoire drabble, oneshot. Reviews GREATLY welcome, as this is my first attempt at fluff.


Disclaimer: I would like to state I do not own Harry Potter. I would also like to state that I think it's pathetic that you have to be so politically correct when you're on a site which is called FANfiction. Not many people would write fanfiction about their own stuff. Unless you're Gilderoy Lockhart.

**A/N-** This is just a little bit of Teddy/Victoire fluff since they still haven't gotten together in my other T/V fic (sigh) and I felt like writing some mushy scenes. This was written, most appropriately, at the doctor's office yesterday morning to get pills for my cold. Do not read unless you want FLUFF. FLUFF abounds. This is your last warning about FLUFF. In fact, anyone who leaves a review gets cotton candy because it's so FLUFFY.

You're still reading? Okay, but don't say I didn't warn you.

**Sharing All Our Lives**

Victoire Weasley was not happy. Her throat was scratchy and hurting like someone had thrust a knife down there, she couldn't breathe through her left nostril, she kept coughing up stuff that was, to be quite frank, incredibly disgusting; and, to top everything off, her boyfriend was nowhere to be found.

Wondering whether he was cheating on her, she dejectedly wound her magically warming blanket closer more tightly around her shoulders, wrapped her fingers around a gloriously steaming mug of tea, and was just about to take a sip when-

"Hello, Victoire! Not feeling your best?"

Teddy Lupin, Metamorphmagus, godson of _the_ Harry Potter, founder and vice-president of the Werewolf Support Network, Witch Weekly's Number Seven Most Gorgeous Wizard- not to mention Victoire's aforementioned suspiciously absent boyfriend- bounced cheerily through the front door of Victoire's flat.

"Merlin's trousers- I thought it was only us bachelors who were this untidy," he said respectfully as he waltzed into her kitchen and was greeted by the sight of Victoire, wrapped in a blanket, her unbrushed hair falling in knots down her back, and surrounded by dirty dishes, empty cough drop wrappers, and tissues.

"I. Am. Going. To. Kill. You." Victoire rasped, and downed her tea in one go. "You see," she continued, wiping her mouth with the back of her hand, "When most girls lose their voices for days at a time and don't set foot outside their flats, their boyfriends see fit to come and make sure everything's all right."

Teeddy looked somber. "I'm really, really sorry, Victoire. I wasn't meaning to ignore you." He poured her another cup of tea and set it on the table uncertainly. He looked so repentant and solemn that she couldn't stop the corners of her mouth twitching.

Immediately Teddy perked right up, dancing around her and chanting, "I made you smi-ile! I made you smi-ile!"

Now, I know you must be thinking what an awful, unfeeling, self-centered girl Victoire is. So let's back up a little and be fair to her.

One minute Victoire Weasley had been a very happy witch indeed. She had a lovely job as a sub-editor in Obscurus books publishing house (if you have a manuscript, they'd be happy to take a look at it- just head down to 18a Diagon Alley and ask for Auguste Worme), a wonderful boyfriend and a caring family; the next minute her sickness was forcing her to stay away from her wonderful job and use up all her holiday time; her caring family was vacationing in France, and she hadn't seen hide nor hair of her wonderful boyfriend for whole miserable, painful week.

And now that he _had_ shown up, he was making her already-tender head pound with his singing. "I made you smi-ile… I made you smi-ile…"

"Teddy," she pleaded weakly, but he showed no sign of relenting. "Teddy!" she said again, louder, but accomplished nothing except an even more damaged throat. Thus, she resorted to her last option.

Grabbing the front of Teddy's robes, she dragged him down to her level and snogged him for all she was worth- which was quite a bit, as one Teddy Lupin could have told you if his mouth hadn't been quite so busy.

When they finally came up for air, Victoire smiled sweetly. It was obvious the look in her eyes unnerved the stammering man in front of her.

"Teddy," she said, sounding like an evil creature from the depths of a swamp (or maybe just Marilyn Manson singing), "I'm still contagious."

There was a few seconds of silence as Teddy stared at her.

Then he bust into laughter. "Oh, Victoire, you'll never change, will you?" he chortled, wiping tears of mirth from his eyes- until he was that there were tears in Victoire's, as well.

And they were decidedly mirthless.

"V-Victoire? What's wrong? Are you all right? Oh, Merlin, Victoire, I didn't mean to-"

"Don't apologize!" she wailed. "It's me! I've been acting like a complete- like a – I look a complete fright- I haven't bathed in a week- and then I gave you a cold and I've been rude just because you weren't here before and then I snogged you and you just laughed it off and I've been so angry about this cold and I gave it to you, the man I-"

She stopped abruptly, then decided to pursue the subject from a slightly different angle. "And now you'll hate me because if I loved you I wouldn't have given you the most terrible-"

Teddy interrupted her. His smile had left, and he now looked pale and strained. "You don't love me? Is that what you said?" He asked urgently.

Victoire sniffled. "I _do_ love you, I promise, but you'll think I don't because I gave you the-"

"Stop going on about that blasted cold, already," said Teddy, wiping away her tears with his thumb. "Do you love me?"

Victoire looked him in the eyes. "Since the day I was born," she whispered, shrinking under his penetrating gaze.

"The reason I've been away all week," he whispered tenderly, deepening his gaze and cupping her face in his hands, "Is because I was trying to pluck up my courage. To-" He tore his eyes away from the woman in front of him, who still looked gorgeous to him despite her splotchy red face, watery eyes, and rubbed-raw nose, and pulled out a small golden box. Her eyes widened as he got down on one knee in the middle of the cluttered kitchen by her chair.

"Victoire Molly Weasley," he said, trying to keep his voice from cracking with emotion, "Will you please do me- the ultimate honor- of becoming my wife?"

Victoire found she couldn't stop shaking. The joy rising in her almost frightened her, yet she embraced it with all her soul as she jumped on top of Teddy, smothering him in kisses. "Yes- oh, of course- yes-" she kept saying, trying not to start crying again. But she gave up attempting to stem her tears when she saw Teddy weeping for happiness as well, as his hair turned the brightest yellow you could imagine.

"Then- here," he choked, and slipped a ring on her finger. It was beautifully simple- a slender golden band with a single opal, flanked by two pearls. She leaned in for yet another kiss.

Teddy smiled against her lips. "I've just thought of something," he whispered to her, as he wrapped Victoire's blanket around the two of them.

"What?"

"Now we can share colds all our lives."

And so they did.


End file.
